I am wrapped in her algid arms. I am lost in her evocative glare. I stand, environed by the Keres, Those dilapidated demons.
Azrael, my craven shadow, clings To me as a vulture stalks its prey. Thanatos does each step possess Forward into this acidulous air.
Fissured masks release languid screams That fall upon pallid faces that have Long since wilted in her Stygian womb. Enervated laughs drone in mangy ears.
I stand on the periphery of this Asphyxiating cistern. I ambulate Across this sable field that shall Become the executioner’s blade.